


men on the hill

by Lame_Writer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agony, Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Battle, Begging, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Broken Promises, Character Death, Crying, Death, Death Threats, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Gen, Genocide, Gore, Gun Violence, Guns, Guts - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss, Loss of Control, Loss of Faith, Loss of Identity, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Trust, Men Crying, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder-Suicide, Near Death, No Romance, No Sex, No Smut, Original Universe, Pain, Panic, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Separation Anxiety, Shooting Guns, Sickness, Sobbing, Social Anxiety, Starving, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Threats, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues, Violence, War, craving death, dehydrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lame_Writer/pseuds/Lame_Writer





	men on the hill

The night was unforgiving, with the faint howl of the wind ringing through the ears of the hungry men. Listening desperately to every crunch of twig and movement of the area. They left in the hundreds now they remained a baker's dozen at best. The paranoia was contagious throughout the small crowd, huddled together as if that would protect them from the slaughter. The night only got colder as one by one grew weary from the travel, not sleeping for days with only the adrenaline spikes from fear keeping them up. It felt as if it had been forever, how much time had passed ? A couple of hours ? Days ? It was hard to even tell anymore. The growl of their thinning stomachs scared them more than it ever had when they were back at home. The fear of undeniable demise just from their hunger, their fatigue - made them lose more of the hope they scrambled to keep in their weak, dirty, bruised arms. It felt like death would be a more forgivable option than treading further into the thickened darkness, but they’ve gone this far - outliving even the strongest high ranks.

The sound of their sorrowful, pitied hearts rang in their ears like drums in a circus. It was unnerving to be deafened by your own reason you’re still breathing. The urges that sunk in one of the few only festered and boiled from the bottom up. Silent on the intrusive thoughts that clambered and screamed like desperate banshees, yet sickly sweet like a sirens baited song. The others remained close, occasional trip over a protruded root, or a thick unnoticed branch that fell the previous night. The only light came from the moon's graceful, thin rays that shone through the leaves and the clouded sky. The slight dampness in the dirt made them slide and stumble, catching their breath in their lungs. They continued until they made it towards a cave, and had to have been there for longer than they could wrap their heads around, the sound of tired panting muffled by their footsteps from dirt to stone as they entered the cave. The rapid chill of the almost empty, infinite space set in quickly, leaving the men wondering whether it was colder out there or where they were now.

“Well, looks like we’ll be here a while” 

One of the men groggily stated, trying to break the tension that was baring its teeth at them.

“A while ? A WHILE ?! - What if we get KILLED in here, we’ll have our last moments in a god damn CAVE” 

One of the soldiers, a young man named Darren Whensworth - fresh to war with no other experience besides boot camp. He was trembling like a leaf, with a pure burning rage that seeped through his words, it didn’t faze that many people though - what scared them, is how loud he was. Another one, who only went by M quickly covered Darren’s mouth.

“Well we will die here if you keep your voice as loud as it is, ya hear ?” 

This shut Darren up quickly, his body going back to paranoia rather than disgust and rage. He hugged himself as M let him go.

“I just..I just want to go home, I need to see my wife and - and my family ! oh god…” 

Darren began to spiral into grief, another man named Parker Dean who was more experienced, been in more battle than anyone else in the group. He pulled Darren into a comforting hug, muffling Darren’s already quiet sobs.

“I know, but we’ll get through this together, for all we know we could be waiting for someone to takes us home already”

He seemed to know what to say, despite knowing it was mere white lies to keep everyone’s hopes up so they could actually go home. Darren nodded, not wanting to pull away from the embrace and succumb to the cold unforgiving air. He wanted to feel safe, he was safe with the thought of being in the arms of his loved ones. The thought of having the party that he was promised when coming back from the war, this was truly live or die. He felt fearful of everything that moved, much more so than the group he was put with. Darren looked towards the quietest boy in the whole group, huddled in a nearby corner - he was just as new as Darren, Bojack. He was a silent killer. Despite his lack of socialization verbally, people seemed to understand him the most. A much scrawnier but stronger boy than most of his peers if not all of them. Some might speculate that he was even the youngest, given most of his features. Giving a look of tender innocence that hasn’t been tampered with. The intermixed smells of rotting meat, rain, and sweat already filled itself in the cramped surroundings. The sounds of the occasional cough stuttered cry and gags from the weary soldiers could be heard if they weren’t zoned out from the distress. Their minds were tainted and stained with blood. They couldn’t even be helped by the most careful, strong-willed veterans who either died with the large patches or the very lingering few that survived shot themselves before they would either become prisoners of war, or their mental state and how much they were overwhelmed from the enemies men with more technologically advanced warfare was too much to handle - you could hear them cry, mumble or scream before you heard the clambering sound of the silver bullet hit their skull - with the sound of the grieving silence soon to follow. It wasn’t easy, far from it - all the promises from after the war that would benefit them meant nothing now. To rewind time is what they would hope for, to reject the offer and not be forced to dig their own muddy graves in the unknown. 

Hardly anyone slept that night, either insomnia set in amongst them, or the lucky ones who did manage to sleep - woke up in a cold sweat and tears. Some wondered who were actually the lucky ones. It was every little noise that kept them on their feet, whether from the slide of a boot next to them against the hard, rocky earth - or a harmless animal that ran, hopped, or flew past them causing the ruffle in the environment. When morning came it was more of a surprise to see the sunlight seeping through the cracks of the thickened forest - it was too quiet however, the silence would’ve been appreciated if it weren’t combated with the hell they witnessed showing its form only hours before. 

“We need to leave, if we stay in one place we’ll be killed or worse”

“Then what do you suppose we do - huh ? we’re stuck, we’re stuck - and no one knows where we even ARE and if they did before - they’re dead !”

“Don’t be so certain Mr.Whensworth, we don’t know that -”

“Then how do you know so much then ? How are you so self-assured when we have blood on our hands”

“You have to make your hands dirty to keep the world clean, now who's ready to move”

No one could tell if it was the never-changing monotone voice that never strained or waver the entire trip, or whether it was the perceived confidence that gave them a sliver of hope in their dark future. They put more faith into the superior, maybe even a bit too much. The sound of the strained breaths and almost silent wheezes from dehydration and distress settle in.

“If you aren’t with us you’re against us”

One of the other ones finally spoke up, standing up while struggling with the bandaged wound, the white clothed bandage wrap was stained with blood, the color of bright to dark red in an almost never-ending ring. The smell of concentrated iron couldn't be contained even through the thick bandage. 

“You’re being irrational, Whensworth”

“Irrational ? this is LIFE OR DEATH”

“We will go with or without you, the choice is yours”

Those words irked him to his core, his hands began to shake once again. His body feeling weak and tight - he shut himself up quickly and shook his head, he didn’t want to be alone to fend for himself. He would die quicker that way due to his inexperience. Parker looked across the opening they came from, there was a slight mist along the ground, he didn’t say another word as he cautiously walked forward. The stone becoming muddy earth once again - the others stayed in shock for a matter of seconds before scrambling to catch up. Darren was the very last person to follow the group. He was still hesitant - and the suspicion of how his confident facade fed into his ever growing paranoia. He struggled to breathe even when doing the minimum movements. Their bodies were heavy and weak while trying to come up with a plan. Parker was vigilant, but something looked to be bothering him. It could be anything, it could’ve been any reason but no one had the courage to ask him. The fear of him turning around with the gun in his hand pressed against their forehead even if Parker had never raised a gun to his men in such a way before. It was the never changing environment that drove most of them mad, the anxiety making none of them trust each other. They all collectively trusted Parker, however - never questioned him, never asked. It could be his badges of honor, his tough demeanor, his care for his fellow men. Again, no one truly could answer that.

They found an almost burned to a crisp village, small - looked to be about 100 people used to live there before whatever happened to it had fallen onto them. Not a sound of an animal, breeze, or any outside force could be heard today. Not sure whether that would be a good or a bad thing, they split off into groups of two to look around and gather any supplies if there happened to be any still left in the wreckage. The smell of smoke was faint, but it was something that stuck out. Things in the huts were scattered, broken and ransacked. Only grouping back when they heard a scream in the short distance away. The blood of the men went cold, the scream sounded so familiar - it had to be from the small group. When they went towards the noise, there was one of the men - or rather, the upper half of him, he was desperately dragging him across ground, the sound of his anguished cries and stuttered pleas for help, death, and mercy.

“Please.. For the love of god help me -- it hurts ! it hurts so much !”

His tears streamed down his face as his arms were wobbly and clearly strained from the change in force onto his palms. The group gagged, threw up, or froze in horror. The man only lasted so long before collapsing from blood loss. He was finally free, no longer in pain - unlike the rest of them. They heard enemy voices screaming that they found the group. In a panic, Parker grabbed the ones he could and dashed away in the other direction, holding their wrists as the rest of them followed, the ones who didn’t get shot in their place. They made it to an open field, panting and heaving as they try to catch their breath. Darren had snapped, grabbing the gun he found from a nearby body and shot the air - catching their attention.

“Darren what the hell are you doing ?!”

One of them yelled in horror, Darren pointed it at everyone.

“We’re goners ! WE’RE GOING TO DIE, EITHER WAY, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE”

“Mr. Whensworth please calm d--”

Before Parker could finish his sentence Darren shot him, the silence from the aftermath didn’t last long. Darren shot at the paralyzed crowd before they could fight back. He was seeing red, he didn’t even know what he was doing. Tears running down his face - he soon snaps back into reality to see what he had done. He froze in his spot, looking down at the bodies of his supposed brethren. He sobbed and mumbled incoherent phrases. Bringing the gun to his temple.

“Lord please, forgive me, forgive me please - PLEASE” 

And after that he had shot himself, the world going black as he hit the ground. He was now free from the carnage.


End file.
